


Please Don't Go, I Need You So

by curtainsonfire



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Near Death Experience, ed is angry with his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 07:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6556840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtainsonfire/pseuds/curtainsonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But this wasn't something he should be thinking of now. Now he was thinking of raw panic and dust drifting from the sky and the shade of red he came to despise six years ago and, "Oh god, oh god, what if he's not okay, what if the bastard isn't alright, what if-"</p><p>~</p><p>Ed's POV from the first bit of Batsutousai's From the Worst of Times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please Don't Go, I Need You So

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [From the Worst of Times](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4337336) by [Batsutousai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai). 



> Hello! Nice to see you here! Alright!
> 
> (y'all should really check out bat's writing, it's a+++)
> 
> Title from Breezeblocks by alt-J

 

Edward was in a car when the first explosion sounded through out the streets surrounding central command.

 

It seemed so stupid, so menial, so insignificant of a place to be when he thought about it now. On his way to lunch, _lunch_ , what a trivial thing to have been doing when his... His... Edward didn't quite know what Mustang was to him. Former commander? Favorite bastard to pester? Somehow one of the most important people to him?

 

But this wasn't something he should be thinking of now. Now he was thinking of raw panic and dust drifting from the sky and the shade of red he came to despise six years ago and, "Oh god, oh god, what if he's not okay, what if the bastard isn't alright, what if-"

 

But then he heard the faint shout, his former title, muffled and raspy, and he nearly sobbed right there and then in relief.

 

"Get some shovels! Now! Hurry the fuck up you wimps, time is lives! Put your fucking backs into!"

 

But now it'd been a few minutes since he'd heard the voice and the panic was setting in again, and the digging was going too slow, too slow-

 

"Get Armstrong, you assholes are fucking _useless_!"

 

And then it was another process of waiting as some private ran off in a vague direction, of trying not to show too much distress for the sake of the grit covered men following the orders he didn't have the authority to give, and grabbing a shovel and starting in himself, and he'd be damned if this wasn't one of the times he missed his alchemy the most, despite his resolution of his choice that day.

 

Armstrong got there soon, not soon enough though (there probably wasn't a soon enough of Ed was honest with himself), he'd probably ran although Edward couldn't tell through the barely settling clouds of dirt. Ed pointed as desperately as he could allow himself to, and Armstrong nodded quickly, drawing an array in some freshly settled dust and shifting away a good portion of the rubble to reveal a dust covered Roy that lay with his body curled around Riza, who was bleeding steadily from her head into a makeshift bandage that seemed to be made of Roy's jacket. Ed's heart caught in his throat as he rushed over, straining his eyes through the musty air trying to discern any rise and fall of Roy's chest, an action he found in vain with a jolt to his stomach that brought him to his knees, thankfully right by Roy's side.

 

He pulled Roy off of Riza, whose cough stuttered breaths soothed his worry minimally, as he barked out orders he didn't quite process himself saying, "One of you fuckers pull the Lieutenant out of here! Now! Dammit, we don't have time for this you fucking idiots, move move move!" He began pumping Roy's chest, mind scrambling at a memory of a first aid maneuver he learned in Areugo that citizens knew well from their proximity to the sea. Edward tilted Roy's mouth open and forcefully breathed air into his lungs, trying not to think panicked thoughts and focusing on the task ahead.

 

He rinsed and repeated, and after an eternity, Roy's eyes fluttered open and a great, rasping gasp rose from his chest, and Edward didn't think he could've stopped the hot tears of relief from streaking down his dusted cheeks if he'd tried. Roy heaved a cough, which turned into a full blown fit, and Ed tenderly grasped his shoulders and moved to sit behind him, holding Roy's chest still as he shook, eyes blinking rapidly. Edward resisted the urge to bury his face in his former commander's hair, to hug him tightly and never let go. Instead he rose to his knees, holding Roy's head gently to keep his head from rolling to the side as he lost consciousness again.

 

He attempted to scoop an arm underneath Roy's shoulders and knees, but his knees buckled when he tried to stand, the adrenaline starting to fade, and he finally noticed the spiking ache at his leg port, something that'd probably happened when he'd been digging and waiting for Armstrong. As if his mind had been read (a skill Edward wouldn't be surprised the Armstrong family carried), the aforementioned man scooped Roy from his arms, carrying him out of the ruins and towards the front gate, a direction that Ed vaguely remembered Hawkeye being taken towards. Edward followed weakly, grudgingly allowing a loitering soldier to help him up as he struggled to keep pace with Armstrong's stride.

 

Getting to the hospital was a blur of stumbles and men and women in white coats, until finally he saw Roy being laid on a bed, his breathing staccato sharp with coughs, but there nonetheless, Fuery and Breda standing rigidly by it, and Ed collapsed into one of the chairs that lined the wall, staring blankly at Roy's unconscious body, and noticing Riza's bed a couple feet away. Exhaling his relief, he saw her makeshift bandage had been replaced with a real one, fresh white a stark change from dusty, red-blotched blue. He reached down and rubbed at his port, feeling some of the pain caused purely by tension fade away, enough to the point that he was able to stand and walk gingerly over to where Breda was being treated, a small shrapnel wound on his arm. Breda was talking quickly and quietly with Fuery.

 

He joined their conversation of what happened, what news they'd seen or heard, everything to do with that afternoons events, but Ed kept one eye on Roy's prone figure. A couple hours later, Roy had been taken out of his torn and dirt covered uniform and changed into a hospital gown, Mustang's team had filtered in and out, and Riza had woken up, twitchy and disgruntled, muttering orders to everyone. It had been going on four hours and a third argument about the best course of action when Roy's eyes blinked open and then screwed shut with a rasping groan. Their conversation died as quickly as that first bomb had gone off and they all shuffled closer.

 

"Sir, are you awake?" Breda asked quietly. Roy's throat bobbed with obvious effort and his grimace struck something Ed didn't want to think about in his chest.

 

The general seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment, eyes still snapped shut, before he grit out, "Hawkeye?"

 

"She's sleeping in the bed next to you," and with Breda's words, Roy's next exhale seemed smoother.

 

Fuery continued, "She woke up about an hour ago. Started bossing us around first thing; Jean ran to check on Black Hayate, and now he and Vato are managing things at Command."

 

Roy nodded, and continued his rasped questions, "Rescue effort?" A pause, "You're all okay?" He got out, clearly holding back another grimace.

 

With another glance to Roy's tightly shut eyes he had a realization and moved as quickly as his leg would allow him to the light switch, which he snapped down, turning to lean against the wall by the door, prompting a startled "Ed!" from Fuery. The minute release of tension from Roy's face and the tentative opening of his eyes was worth the new twinge in his leg from moving so quickly, and let a small smirk slide onto his face to mask the pain. The motion cracked some of the dirt on his face and the smirk tilted a bit into something reflective of his want for a shower.

 

"Water's next to you, bastard. You're making my damn throat hurt, and you're not such an invalid that you can't lift a fucking _glass_."

 

The wide smile Roy flashed him struck that same place in his chest again, and really, that should be concerning, his crush was going so well underneath all those layers of denial and "never-gonna-happen" but then Roy had to go and mumble, "not a hallucination," and those layers officially decided it was time to skip town and leave Edward's heart feeling something like he imagined a stray bug on a sidewalk would after falling victim to an oblivious passerby.

 

Which was why he was out the door before Roy had even reached for the water, because obviously, now was a great time to get the doctor (really he should've done this earlier, Roy was in the brass now and it was probably incredibly important to a lot of people that he was awake and speaking) instead of dealing with his emotions. Ed sighed as he trod out the door. _'This is going to be a long day.'_  



End file.
